Night of the Living Greg
by mossley
Summary: What will Sara think when she finds out Grissom has Greg bound and gagged? My entry to the Improv Challenge. First and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to finish the story. Some GSR. Vague references to the Season 5 opening episode.


**Night of the Living Greg ****  
Summary:** What will Sara think when she finds out Grissom has Greg bound and gagged?**  
A/N: **My response to this week's Improv Challenge. First and last lines are provided, with 1,000 words to fill in the rest. Vague references to Season 5 episodes. Thanks to Burked for her beta skills. All mistakes are mine, and mine alone.**  
Rating: **G. I know, I know, but I've already had one story banned from**  
Disclaimer:** This gets old real quick. If I owned CSI, I'd living in Hawaii.

* * *

"Shut up, Greg, you're dead."

Sara paused in the hallway outside the garage, the Trace report in her hands momentarily forgotten. Swinging her head to the side, her confusion and curiosity both increased. Not only had Grissom said the words in an almost gleeful manner, he was talking to a box. True, it was a rather large box, but it did strike her as odd, _even_ considering who was speaking.

Walking into the garage, a small smile escaped as she watched Grissom excitedly working on ... well, whatever it was he was doing. His love for the job was infectious.

"Hey," she called out, frowning when the box answered with a frantic muffle.

"Hi, Sara," Grissom said, smiling kindly at her. "How's your case going?"

"Fine," she answered automatically, holding up the report as she cautiously began to circle the container on the floor. The back of the box was missing, revealing some sort of piece of equipment inside.

A noisy piece of equipment.

"Srr! Gt mmm ut ff hrr!"

"Do you need any help? I can finish this later," Grissom offered.

"No, I'm fine," she said in bewilderment. Recently, Grissom had started being more caring. While Sara had missed their friendship, she hated what it had taken for him to show it again. His behavior, while nice, was also confusing. 

And then there was ... this.

"Grissom, you have Greg tied up and gagged in that contraption."

"I know," he said happily, nodding in child-like merriment.

"That's a side of you I never suspected," she replied dryly, smiling when he peered at her over the top of his glasses.

"Srr!"

"Oh, hi, Greg. I told you Grissom wouldn't be amused when you switched all his classical CDs for rap."

"Nahh! Hhh dsnt nn abt tht!"

"He did what?" Grissom asked slowly, fixing the bound lab tech with a cold stare.

"Nothing," Sara added with a quick smile. "So, why did you hogtie Greg? No money in the budget for a real dead pig?"

"Our DB was found in an identical position in the matching container. Nick and Catherine are in the field, and Warrick's too tall to fit in here," Grissom explained matter-of-factly.

"And you tied him because ...?" Sara asked, wondering why he hadn't asked her to take part in the experiment. Looking more closely at the cramped confines, she was actually glad he picked Greg to be this particular guinea pig.

"Just being authentic to the crime scene."

"Uh, huh," she teased. "And the gag?"

Grissom answered her with a wink. "He's too noisy. We aren't doing a séance."

"Right," Sara laughed.

"Srr! Hlllp! Hs gng th kll mmm!"

"Relax, Greg. He's not going to kill you," she said, glancing up in time to see Grissom's doubtful glare. "Yet. Too many witnesses here."

"You can understand him?" Grissom asked warily, looking at her suspiciously.

"Sure," she said, leaning against the container and grinning challengingly. "You can learn anything with enough practice."

"I don't want to know," he said after a stunned moment of silence, his head shaking slightly.

"What kind of investigator are you?" Sara joked, examining Greg's makeshift coffin more closely. "What is this thing, anyway?"

"I don't know. And I learned not to ask you _certain_ things after that incident with the Mile High Club."

"Whht?" Greg gagged salaciously, craning his head out of the box.

"Nothing," Sara said, pushing him back inside the container, wincing when she heard his skull connect with the box. "Sorry."

"Grt! Gv m a fkng cnnncsssn."

"I didn't give you a concussion! Don't be such a wimp," she sighed. "See, I do know what he's saying. A skill that came in real handy in college. Paid a lot of bills."

Sara's eyes danced with mirth as Grissom leaned back on his haunches. The internal debate over whether he wanted to know the answer to that riddle was clearly written on his face. She grinned when his hand began stroking his beard and his eyes narrowed.

"You know you want to know," she said tauntingly.

"Doesn't mean I'll like the answer," he replied.

"It's very simple. I was a real professional."

Grissom turned when Greg precariously peeked above the top of the box, but his pointed stare caused Greg to re-inter himself. Letting out a grunt, Grissom stood up. He gave Sara a shrug as he started taking photographs.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation," he said, although with more than a hint of hopefulness.

Sara flashed him a full grin. "I worked in a dentist's office. Cleaning up, answering phones, stuff like that. I was really good at figuring out what the patients were saying. Translation became part of my job."

Grissom gave her a mock-scowl that morphed to a real one when he realized he ran out of film. "I'll be right back. Greg, stay in there!"

After he left, Sara turned to the vigorously mumbling Greg. Reaching over, she gingerly pulled the gag from his mouth, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the slobber.

"Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou! Help me out of here."

"No way. You heard Grissom."

"Sara, please! I'm dying in here. My legs are cramping up!"

"Oh, okay," she sighed, taking him by the shoulders and easing him out of the box.

"Do you think you could untie me?" Greg asked shortly.

Taking a look at the intricate arrangement of ropes and knots, she shook her head sadly. "No way I could recreate that from memory. I don't want Grissom pissed at me, too."

"Ha! Like that would happen."

"More times than I want to remember," Sara replied, helping Greg hop around the room so the blood would start circulating to his legs.

"Come on! Everyone knows you're his favorite again. Last year it was Nick."

"Right."

"I'm serious. You don't see Grissom asking you to take part in this, did you?"

"I don't know, Greg. I think if I was his favorite, he'd be asking me to help in the experiment," Sara replied, knowing how much Grissom enjoyed his recreations.

"So, you're saying he'd liked to tie you up? Does that go with the Mile High Club?"

In the hallway, Brass paused on his way to Grissom's office, his eyebrows going up in shock. Taking a step back, he nodded slowly. Yep. He _had_ seen Sara chasing a wildly hopping, tied-up Greg through the garage. Brass knew it was going to be one of _those_ days.

**The End**


End file.
